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Another Sweep of the Second Hand..

Another Sweep of the Second Hand..

A Story by Shelley Holt-Lowrey

In the blink of an eye he grew, and grew and then he went and grew some more. I miss the little boy, but celebrate the glimpse of the man who is to become.

In the blink of an eye he grew, and grew and then he went and grew some more.  I miss the little boy, but celebrate the glimpse of the man who is to become.
April 26, 2012

It's 4:37 am.  I hear the gurgle of the sprinkler beginning  against the backdrop of a slow rain.  It's Thursday.

Happy Birthday Peanut!
  Happy 13th Birthday...

As is our annual tradition, on the eve of this day I recount the story of your arrival into the world.  Reminding you how you were wanted from before the beginning, of the love you were born into, and how joy and grace entered the world alongside of you.  And thankfully, once again I receive that giggle of yours.  The one that only shows up when I tell you this story.  I love that giggle.

Every year I tell you how I was not ready to share you with the world.  How I wanted just a few more days, two or three at most, when I was all you needed.  How I thought if I willed it, it would be.  Your will proved stronger than mine that day.  In the way that is uniquely yours, you demanded, my body complied, and there you were.  Here you are.  Here we are.

We were separated for a few brief moments after you arrived.  You drew your first breath for someone else.  For this we both cried out.  Then you were in my arms.  I whispered your name, and you were quieted.  Never before, or since have I been more aware of the truly miraculous.  In your eyes I saw the culmination of every minute of my life until then.  All that had passed before brought me to that moment.  To you.

Often, I stole you away to a place once wholly my own.  A place without time or space, but where my spirit rested when weary.  My holiest of places where no one, save you, ever entered.  That became our place.  It was where your need for me was kept.  Where I could gather you to myself as you wrapped tight around me seeking comfort.  There I would bury my face in your hair bringing comfort to us both.   Nothing more was needed there.  So much time spent in that place with you.  I was incapable of being anywhere further than your need and, blessedly your need was great.  That place has become so quiet now.  You don't need it any longer ,so we don't go there anymore.  As much as I hated to lose you in this place I have learned that you will no more be contained now than you could be contained then.  It is your will we follow.  You are the one with the growing to do.  The time of my work here is drawing to a close.

My consolation is in the knowing that you will visit this place every once in a while.  In a dream, or in a moment of need - when your world seems to be getting too big, too fast.  You will rush in occasionally, with those big blue eyes and that crooked smile.  And you will wrap yourself around me, holding tight for but a brief moment. Then you are off again.
..... good bye!
And I am left in the quiet surroundings of comfort and solitude.

From this place I stand looking at you, on the eve of your thirteenth year.  I watch you sleep.  Your breath even, your face slack, revealing the innocence you still possess.  Innocence which will slowly give way to  other, more masculine things.  Things such as strength, honor, commitment and an ability to stand strong and true.  Already when I call you by these names, you bring them forth with purpose.

I do miss the boy you once were.  Today however, we celebrate the man already peeking through the window.

Thirteen is only a number.  Between twelve and fourteen.  Another sweep of the second hand, and it's just another day.  The one before tomorrow right?  

Not for you.  For you it is a beginning.  A step forward toward a future in which possibility stretches as far as the eye can see.  

As you slowly move toward those possibilities, know that you have been loved from the beginning, and you will be loved until forever, and then one second more.

The rain has stopped.  Silence holds for but a moment.  The birds have begun their morning song.

I love you always -

© 2012 Shelley Holt-Lowrey

Author's Note

Shelley Holt-Lowrey
For my son really. Review if you wish, but doubt I will change it.

My Review

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Totally engaging and touching. What a fantastic, loving mother you must be! Everything you said rang true. Having three sons myself, I'll confirm that which you already know, and that's the fact that they grow up way too fast.

Posted 9 Years Ago

Very nice. The only thing I would change is "begin" to "begun" in the last sentence.

Posted 9 Years Ago


Posted 9 Years Ago

Don't change a word...He will treasure this always !

Posted 9 Years Ago

No, I wouldn't suggest a change. This is a beautiful sotry of love for your son--the love you've given him, and the love that lets him go to be himself.

Posted 9 Years Ago

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I don't think it needs a letter to be changed. What does strike me though is the way writing like this can be drawn towards the sentimental and mawkish. Both things you have stayed well clear of. True, it is awash with emotion. None the worse for that, but it is not sickly sweet. Simply loving. And that makes it readable. Very readable.
I truly hope he enjoyed it and looks back on it years to come.

Posted 9 Years Ago

with this you have touched an empty place in my heart

Posted 9 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Don't you dare change it...this is as natural a love story as I've ever read. Truly heartwrending...nothing in this world surpasses the quiet, nearly servile devotion of a mom to her child, crossing the barriers of practical vs. imaginative, learned vs. learning, sage vs. nieve...patient vs. tempestual.

To read such prose from the hand of a working mother is a walk into the meadows of true life...absolutely beautiful!

Posted 9 Years Ago

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8 Reviews
Added on April 26, 2012
Last Updated on April 30, 2012
Tags: Sons, moms, family, youth, teens, growing, story, boys

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